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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 596/853
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She
took
a
late
supper
in
the
Great
Hall
with
her
garrison
,
to
give
them
what
encouragement
she
could
.
Rymund
the
Rhymer
sang
through
all
the
courses
,
sparing
her
the
need
to
talk
.
He
closed
with
the
song
he
had
written
about
Robb
’
s
victory
at
Oxcross
.
"
And
the
stars
in
the
night
were
the
eyes
of
his
wolves
,
and
the
wind
itself
was
their
song
.
"
Between
the
verses
,
Rymund
threw
back
his
head
and
howled
,
and
by
the
end
,
half
of
the
hall
was
howling
along
with
him
,
even
Desmond
Grell
,
who
was
well
in
his
cups
.
Their
voices
rang
off
the
rafters
.
Let
them
have
their
songs
,
if
it
makes
them
brave
,
Catelyn
thought
,
toying
with
her
silver
goblet
.
"
There
was
always
a
singer
at
Evenfall
Hall
when
I
was
a
girl
,
"
Brienne
said
quietly
.
"
I
learned
all
the
songs
by
heart
.
"
"
Sansa
did
the
same
,
though
few
singers
ever
cared
to
make
the
long
journey
north
to
Winterfell
.
"
I
told
her
there
would
be
singers
at
the
king
’
s
court
,
though
.
I
told
her
she
would
hear
music
of
all
sorts
,
that
her
father
could
find
some
master
to
help
her
learn
the
high
harp
.
Oh
,
gods
forgive
me
.
.
.
Brienne
said
,
"
I
remember
a
woman
.
.
.
she
came
from
some
place
across
the
narrow
sea
.
I
could
not
even
say
what
language
she
sang
in
,
but
her
voice
was
as
lovely
as
she
was
.
She
had
eyes
the
color
of
plums
and
her
waist
was
so
tiny
my
father
could
put
his
hands
around
it
.
His
hands
were
almost
as
big
as
mine
.
"
She
closed
her
long
,
thick
fingers
,
as
if
to
hide
them
.
"
Did
you
sing
for
your
father
?
"
Catelyn
asked
.
Brienne
shook
her
head
,
staring
down
at
her
trencher
as
if
to
find
some
answer
in
the
gravy
.
"
For
Lord
Renly
?
"
The
girl
reddened
.
"
Never
,
I
.
.
.
his
fool
,
he
made
cruel
japes
sometimes
,
and
I
.
.
.
"
